


sometimes at night i let it get to me

by nevershootamockingbird



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Beau is trying to be better and Jester needs several hugs, Canon Compliant, Crisis of Faith, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Happy Ending, No Spoilers, technically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-29 22:41:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15738786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nevershootamockingbird/pseuds/nevershootamockingbird
Summary: “He didn’t come for me,” it’s half-whispered, anguished and betrayed, and Beau feels another piece of her too fragile heart splinter when Jester turns towards her. The other woman’s eyes are bloodshot, tears rolling down her cheeks and chin, nose shiny with snot, and Beau reaches down to hug her immediately. It’s awkward, a little, stretching out and shoving her arm under the tiefling’s shoulders, other hand coming up to catch and pull at tangles as she tries to smooth down curly hair, but Jester doesn’t seem to care.She just seems to get worse.





	sometimes at night i let it get to me

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all, it's early on a Monday morning so it's time to be emotional about Beau and Jester's friendship :') 
> 
> This is technically canon compliant, but there are no spoilers for episode 31. I've been hurting since Jester wrote in her journal asking why the Traveler didn't come for her, and after this past week's episode, this just sort of happened. 
> 
> I think Fjord and Jester (and Yasha, I hope) are on their way to healing, but they've got a long way to go. So here's Jester in crisis, and Beau doing her damned best to help her best friend out.

Beau isn’t sure what wakes her, at first. 

She comes to consciousness suddenly, snapping out of a dream she doesn’t  _ want _ to remember, a scream stuck in her throat as her muscles seize, breath trapped in her lungs. The only thing she can hear is the roar of blood in her ears, her heart beating too quick like a hummingbird; fear coats her tongue, and she squeezes her eyes shut as she tries to make it all fall away. 

A minute passes, two, and her lungs expand enough for her to suck in a mouthful of air, heart rate slowing to something that could pass for normal. She rolls onto her back carefully, blinking up at the ceiling as she tries to focus on anything but the thoughts rattling in her head. 

The windowpane is a little loose, air whistling through it quietly; the normal strange creaks and muted shiftings of an old inn; murmurs from a room next door, and Beau frowns at that, doesn’t feel good about what might have her friends up this late. She rolls over towards the other bed, gaze falling to the mound of blankets, and she’s thankful that one of them is asleep, at least, one of them didn’t get woken by whatever it was that-- oh. 

Beau swallows hard, ignores the sinking feeling in her stomach. 

“Jester?” She asks, softly, hoping that she’s wrong; there’s no answer, and for a brief second she feels relief wash over her, bright and soft. 

It doesn’t last long. 

There’s a hiccup, then a muffled sob, and Beau kicks at tangled sheets until she almost falls from her bed, crossing the few feet separating their beds until she can kneel on the mattress, hesitantly resting a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Hey, Jester?”

“He didn’t come for me,” it’s half-whispered, anguished and betrayed, and Beau feels another piece of her too fragile heart splinter when Jester turns towards her. The other woman’s eyes are bloodshot, tears rolling down her cheeks and chin, nose shiny with snot, and Beau reaches down to hug her immediately. It’s awkward, a little, stretching out and shoving her arm under the tiefling’s shoulders, other hand coming up to catch and pull at tangles as she tries to smooth down curly hair, but Jester doesn’t seem to care. 

She just seems to get worse. 

The tears keep coming, but they’re heaving, ugly sobs, now; knowing that her roommate is awake, Jester seems to be done trying to hide her distress. Beau tightens her grip, lets Jester press her face against her neck and smear everything against her skin, lips still moving and catching around words that won’t stop. 

Beau feels fucking sick. 

“He didn’t-- He didn’t come! He didn’t come for me!” Over and over, she hears the words, broken and beaten, torn from Jester like she can’t stop, can’t say anything else. Beau wonders if maybe she can’t, really, if it’s all that she has right now. 

It goes on. 

Beau does her best to help, does her best to hold tight and stroke her friend’s head, does her best to murmur absolute fucking nonsense, does her best to try and hold this precious, dear woman together and not fall apart with her. She doesn’t know if it works.

Jester’s tears run out, eventually, although Beau has no sense of how much time may have passed, not with her back to the window and her entire being focused on trying to bring Jester back from this fucking hellhole of her being that she’s trapped in. The tears run out, until the tiefling is just shaking and hiccuping in her arms, sniffling and breathing in unsteady gasps. The tears run out, but the words, gods, the words  _ don’t _ . 

“He didn’t come for me,” Jester whispers, hoarse and broken, sounding like she’s swallowed some of Beau’s throwing knives. She heaves a shuddering sigh, hands clinging and clutching at Beau’s waist as she utters again, bereft, “He didn’t come.”

“But we did.” She doesn’t mean to say it, doesn’t think before she’s said it, but she feels Jester still against her before the tiefling begins to pull away. Beau lets her go reluctantly, slides her hand down to curl loosely over the side of her friend’s neck; her other arm ends up kinda squished under one of the other woman’s shoulders, but she makes no move to free it. There’s a curious expression on Jester’s face, something Beau can’t really put a name to, but it makes the hair on the back of her neck stand on end, something in her chest tightening uncomfortably.

“What did you say?” Jester asks, eyes unblinking as she holds Beau’s gaze, and the monk swallows, shrugs and does what she does best, refuses to fucking back down. 

“We did,” she repeats, louder this time, and thinks that it matters fuckall whoever else might hear, whoever she might wake. She’s not worried about anyone other than the woman in front of her. 

(that’s a lie, a voice in the back of her head screams, maybe the biggest lie she’s told. That’s a lie, she’s worried about everyone else, too, can’t figure out how to shut it off)

“You did, what?” The words are even, almost steady, no inflection or tone; Beau grits her teeth against the alarm prickling down her spine, presses her hand to her friend’s cool skin a little more substantially. There’s a flicker in Jester’s eyes, and the human clears her throat, hopes that it’s enough, that it can be enough, that  _ she _ can be enough, just once. 

“Jester, you’re right. He didn’t come for you,” she starts, and a wall starts to come down over her friend’s face, mask slipping back into place as she tries to pull away. Beau tightens her grip, wriggles until her arm is back around the other woman’s shoulder, keeps their gazes locked as she pushes forward, words spilling out in a pathetic, shaking voice, “He didn’t, but we did. We came for you, Jester. We weren’t gonna stop until we found you. And we’ll do it again, if we ever have to. I promise.”

Beau can’t breathe as she waits for Jester to react, too afraid that the slightest sound or movement will make the tiefling shove it all back away, pretend she’s fine again as she pastes on another smile. Beau watches Jester’s gaze turn vulnerable again, feels a cool arm drape over her waist, and wonders just how many eternities can last in a moment. 

“You promise?” Jester asks, a thin thread of hope lingering in her words, and Beau can’t nod fast enough, sliding her hand up to cradle her friend’s cheek. 

“I swear, Jester, we will always come for you,” and it’s true, it’s real, and Jester fucking melts into her, a shaky laugh in her throat as she leans in to press their foreheads together. It’s true, it’s real, but it isn’t enough for Beau; she takes a deep breath, ignores the sting at the corner of her eyes as she says, “I will always come for you.”

She can’t even hope to stop her own tears when Jester sniffles, her own eyes welling up. 

They stay curled together like parentheses as they cry, foreheads pressed together; Beau doesn’t let go, uses her thumb to wipe away tears, her arm curled too tightly around Jester’s broad shoulders. There’s a tail wrapped around one of her thighs, and Jester’s hands can’t stay still, pressing and smoothing over whatever skin she can find, and Beau wonders briefly which one of them she’s really trying to reassure. 

It feels like a little like they’re mourning; she guesses that’s not really that far off from the truth. 

“I hate it,” Jester murmurs after a little while, after their tears have stopped and their breathing has calmed, after they’ve stared and stared and stared, not yet settled, neither quite ready to part. Beau frowns, pushes the insidious thought that she’s fucked up, again. 

“Hate what?” She asks instead, and Jester shrugs a shoulder, finally breaking their gaze to look down, taking a cue from Caleb and focusing somewhere in the vicinity of Beau’s jaw. 

“Doubt. I hate it, I don’t-- I don’t like it.” The words are almost vicious, Jester’s brow furrowing as she speaks, and Beau feels a pang of sympathy behind her breastbone. “I’ve never doubted him, or-- or myself. I hate this.”

“Jester, we--” she tries to speak, but Jester plows ahead, doesn’t leave room for her words in the space between them.

“Maybe, maybe he doesn’t believe in me, anymore,” and Beau can’t take the devastation in her eyes, the resignation in her voice as she continues, “So why should I believe in him?”

The silence that follows is deafening; Beau swallows back every part of her that wants to run from this, she’s not  _ good _ at this, but she’s going to give it everything she’s got. 

“Well, I believe in you. Do you still believe in yourself?” She asks, and Jester startles a little, meets her gaze, and there’s a question in her eyes that Beau desperately hopes she can answer. The seconds stretch, and she feels panic well up in her throat, that she can’t help, she can’t do anything right, but then Jester takes a deep, shuddering breath and tightens her hand around Beau’s hip. 

“Yes,” she says, and it’s fragile, it’s tentative but it’s  _ there _ , and Beau thinks she might cry from the utter relief that floods her system. Jester nods slowly, lips curling into a smile that’s shaky but finally genuine, “Yes, I do. I do believe in myself.”

“So do I,” Beau tells her quickly, earnestly, needs her friend to know that she means it with every fucking fiber in her being. Jester’s smile widens, and Beau has to repeat herself, “I believe in you.”

“Thank you, Beau,” and she wants to laugh because she doesn’t need thanks. Having Jester back alive is enough, her best friend’s sunshine-smile is enough, this honesty is enough. 

“Do you still want to believe in him, Jester?” She asks, because she needs to know, needs her friend to figure it out, or at least start to. Beau’s not a healer, not even close, but she’s good at figuring out when it needs to happen.

The silence stretches between them heavy and thick, Beau’s nerves kicking into overdrive the longer she waits for an answer. Jester isn’t looking at her anymore, staring somewhere over her shoulder, and Beau feels a strange prickling sensation along her spine, ice cold and unsettling.

“I want to,” Jester whispers, eyes finally sliding back to meet her gaze, and Beau nods, pushes away her discomfort and rubs her thumb gently over the tiefling’s cheek.

“Then believe in him,” she says, like it’s easy, even though she has no fucking idea. She has no idea what the Traveler is, what Jester’s relationship with him is really like, but she hopes it’s that easy, because her friend needs this, needs to hold on. Beau lets her lips twist into a crooked smile before continuing, Believe in him if you want to. Just, you know, remember to believe in yourself, believe in  _ us _ , too.”

The words fall between them, and Beau watches as Jester processes them, does her best to keep still and not squirm under the scrutiny of her friend. 

“Of course I believe in you all,” and it’s all Beau can do to keep from laughing, near giddy with relief. Jester’s voice is warm, knowing and a little sweet, as she says, “I believe in all of us, together. You came for me! You love me, I know you do.”

“Yeah, we do. I do,” Beau admits, and she does laugh when Jester squeals and pulls her into a tight hug. She hugs her friend back, sighs and relaxes into the affection, accepts it greedily while she can. 

Beau has never been sure of faith, has seen it torn asunder and misplaced too many times. This, though, she can be sure of; Jester cuddled into her, most of their friends safe under the inn’s roof, a half-plan and an open road beckoning. 

There’s a rumble of thunder, distant and low, before the soft sound of rain against the windowpane reaches her ears. Jester is closer to snoring, mumbling half-thoughts into the pillow, her muscles lax and breathing slowly evening out. 

“Heyyy, Bea-au,” she sing-songs, words a little muffled and slurred, and Beau snorts inelegantly, runs a hand over her friend’s back in lieu of verbal reply. Jester sighs contentedly, doesn’t open her eyes as she says, “I love you, too.”

When she finally sleeps again, the nightmares do not follow. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I really hope that you enjoyed this. 
> 
> I tried hard to keep them in character, so hopefully I did some justice! I feel like Jester certainly is doing a good job to hide what she's going through, but we know that she's shaken up over what happened and who didn't come for her. This just sort of seemed to fit into the narrative as a good possibility of what might happen. 
> 
> Title is from 'In Bloom' by Neck Deep. My twin sent it my way telling me it sounded like a Jester song, with what she's been going through, and, well. Here we are. 
> 
> Again, thank you for reading. You can find me over on [tumblr](https://nevershootamockingbird.tumblr.com) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/daleytwin1) if you feel like yelling with me about these lovely characters (or anything else, really).


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